Hello, my beautiful readers! Thank you all for your kind attention and sorry it's taken me so long to repost but I definitely feel the drive again and it won't be long before the next chapter is posted :) I hope you all enjoy and please don't be afraid to ask me any questions or leave a review, thank you, lovelies! I hope you like! ~TheRabbidRabbit
In The Aftermath
"Ssh, ssh, it's okay baby girl…" A soft voice hummed, singing wordless lullabies to the crying baby. Through the darkness that clouded her vision, Madeline strained to open her eyes and shift her weight so she could fully view her unexpected feminine guest. It was a mildly pleasant surprise compared to what she'd had been used to waking up to.
"Maggie?" She groaned groggily, rubbing her temples with the soft pads of her fingers. Her mind was throbbing and pulsating at the corners of her eyes, slightly distorting the comforting image of the sun-worn farmer's daughter; for a few seconds Madeline thought she was seeing double.
"Hmm?" The other woman tuned, bouncing the tiny baby on her shoulder as she gently patted the tiny pink bundle in her arms. Lori Junior cooed happily against Maggie's neck and squirmed against her gently, rubbing her tiny forehead against her soft cotton tank top. Madeline's maternal instincts suddenly flared with a trace of jealousy rearing its ugly head in the back of her mind, but she held her tongue and fought against the rickets in her joints to sit beside the lovely Maggie Greene. She had no idea how long she'd been out, but from the brightness in the room it couldn't have been longer than an hour or two, give or take.
"You didn't have to do that," She commented softly, eyeing the tiny, emptied bottle of formula that rested by her foot with a hint of guilt. Lori Junior was probably crying and miserable while she had been passed out like a particularly lazy, drunk ex-boyfriend of hers, so she was thankful that Maggie had stepped up for her on her behalf.
"Mm-mm," Maggie insisted, swishing her short, chocolate colored ringlets as she shook her head. "I wanted to; you looked like you could've used a break…" Doesn't make me feel any better… She thought glumly, shrugging her shoulders in response.
Madeline chuckled humorlessly and sighed; the aches in her head had dimmed subtly, but she could still feel the faint throbs beating against her skull. "You're probably right, I haven't exactly played Mommy in a while…" she said sardonically, mentally kicking herself for being too irresponsible and useless to do anything right. Apparently she had an affinity for being the world's shittiest caregiver. Blackout, seizure, coma or not, she shouldn't allow herself to be so weak. Not ever. Not again. All it took now was one fuck up and the people that depended on her would be toast. The fear of unrelenting failure was boring into her brain like a rusty screwdriver, now more than ever she was terrified of losing more people. She couldn't let it happen again.
But what in the hell was happening to her? Passing out on the job certainly wasn't something she did on a daily basis, so it was definitely a major cause of concern. With no doctors, no CAT scans or no x-Rays, she could have a malignant tumor the size of New Zealand latched to her lungs and she'd be none the wiser! One day she could just keel over and then take a chunk out of Rick or Glenn's legs….! The thought of actually turning in the middle of a conversation was just as unbearably embarrassing as it was tragically and sadistically ironic. Madeline dropped her head into her hands and prayed that if she still had the choice as to how she would go, she'd go out like a badass and finally get to use those grenades she'd been meaning to get rid of and take out as much of the Walkers as possible. It was funny how even though she was irreversibly scarred from all the death and destruction in the world, she still wanted to go down in a blaze of fiery, violent, instantaneous glory.
While Madeline dug a deeper hole for herself in her own mind, Maggie watched her with empathy, wishing she knew what to say to comfort the mysterious young girl. Madeline was sitting beside her with her head slumped in her hands, causing her long auburn hair to shift forward and make a veil over her face. From the arching of her back she could make out the ridges of her spine and trace the fine lines of her ribs through the fabric of her black tank. She really wasn't holding up as well physically as she did mentally.
When Maggie had come in originally to investigate the cries of the baby, she witnessed how truly down-trodden the girl was. Her eyes were rimmed with black from lack of sleep and stress and she was breathing so faintly that Maggie had actually thought she was dead. Maggie knew Maddie wouldn't want her pity any more than she would if she were in her position, so she acted like everything was normal and they both put on brave faces so the other couldn't see how hard they were struggling to cope with the trauma of the day's events.
So while she allowed Madeline to tell her that she was okay and everything was fine, Maggie frowned sympathetically, but didn't add anything to fuel the flames of Madeline's pit of self-loathing. Maggie had actually come to admire how the young woman carried herself for the others, after risking her life to protect her, Lori and Carl; she couldn't help but respect her courage. Even while Maddie was at her lowest point she didn't want her to see it.
Now that it was just the two (well, two and a half) of them, Maggie could see how the pressure really began to eat away at her now that they were alone. She wasn't normally so quiet, since the day she'd arrived she could depend on Madeline to start a conversation with just about anyone in the group, but now…. She was just shutting herself away from them. In a weird kind of way, Madeline reminded her of herself, because here she was, alone with her and the baby, shutting herself off from their beloved group. She didn't even think to go to her dad or Glenn about how she felt, what she wanted most was to be alone. But Madeline needed someone. Because she was there for her, Maggie was resolved into doing her best to help put her back on her feet again. It was the least she could do.
The two women sat beside each other with nothing but the sound of squeaky bed springs and the slow paces of their breathing; happy to at least have this moment of peace and each other's friendly company. It seemed like they were thinking the same thing about the other.
"What do you think we should do about formula?" Madeline finally asked, breaking the silence; her sharp, crystal blue eyes softening while she watched Maggie cradle the now sleeping newborn. Maggie smirked and carefully mulled over her options; she knew it was only a matter of time before they'd run out of baby food but she couldn't just ask her to go back out into the open so soon after the breech…
"I think…. For now at least…. We should just focus on getting through today." Maggie said slowly, thoughtfully choosing the words to say as she processed exactly what she had meant. Right now wasn't a good time to be worrying about the future, right now should be focused on their sheer, dumb luck that they were alive.
"I guess you're right…" Madeline agreed, feigning a smile on her lips, even though her eyes revealed she was still somewhat downcast. The young woman shrugged her limp shoulders again and stood up, running a pale hand through her long auburn hair. "I think I'm gonna go for a walk…" She murmured, barely hearing Maggie say "okay" as she walked out of her cell and stepped into the hallway. Maggie frowned but kept rocking the sleeping baby girl for a little while longer, fighting back tears as the silence of the prison began to gnaw away at her sanity once again.
Daryl Dixon swore on his life that he was going to go bat-shit insane if he had to deal with this damned silence any longer. He was already pissed off at the fact that they'd lost T-Dog and Carol because of that bastard Andrew, but there was also something else on his mind that was nipping away at him; and it bothered him worse than the time he's gotten poison ivy all over his dumb ass when he was a kid. It was that damned girl.
"Madeline…" He spat bitterly, cursing her name as if she were some kind of contagious disease as he paced around loudly in his perch above the prison. If he had any liquor left he'd have downed it in a heartbeat to get that stupid bitch out of his head. But who was he kidding? He was just as stuck with her as the scars were on his back. He hadn't seen her since they'd arrived at the prison but since he didn't find any loose dog-tags or bloody black bandanas lying around; he knew he wasn't fortunate enough to have her kick the bucket just yet. Part of him wished she had been turned into Walker-bait while the other imagined several varying… unspeakable scenarios that could have happened to her between the two of them. Jesus Christ, he needed to stop.
He was also understandably concerned about Rick, who wandering around stark, raving mad on a psychotic witch hunt somewhere deep within the bowels of the catacombs. Daryl may not have particularly liked Lori, but goddamn. From what he could've guessed, it certainly wasn't the most merciful way to die. Then there was that pesky little son of hers, Carl. Daryl knew a thing or two about what goes on in the dark side of a boy's mind when shit hits the fan, and something told him what happened in the boiler room was going to stick with him for a while, if not the rest of his life. He certainly wasn't that doe-eyed little pest that didn't know a damn thing about killing anymore, Daryl could see it in his eyes.
Daryl also had the unfortunate pleasure of running into Glenn after he tried to calm Rick down, but from the panicked look in the Korean's eyes when he came sprinting out in the opposite direction, there wasn't going to be any talking to Rick. Man, what he'd give for even a sip of whiskey….
"Fuck it," He groaned, finally losing his resolve to suffer "in silence". He opened his door to his perch so he could climb down and rejoin the ranks of "un-undead" and at least talk to someone that wasn't himself. Hell, if she were still there, he'd even talk to that smartass blonde bimbo that almost killed him a couple months back, Andrea. Daryl scoffed at the idea of engaging in any "meaningful conversation" with the "well-intended" slut that slept with Shane for the sake of having him stick with the group. He felt like such a cynical, bigoted misogynist, but he couldn't give a damn in that moment, what he wanted, what he needed was distraction.
"Women; ya can't live with 'em, and ya sure as hell can't live without 'em, baby brother!" The ghost of his brother teased as he made his way down the tall iron ladder, making Daryl snicker to himself before he wittingly replied, "It certainly felt that way when all yer options were a slut, a two-timing stupid bitch, an abused, love-starved ghost of a woman, a helpless underage teenage girl, the farmer's tomboy daughter and a smartass, tomahawk-wielding piece of ass that never knew went to keep her mouth shut!"
Daryl was increasingly sexually agitated, egotistically angsty and looking for an outlet to take out his frustrations on; he was so finished with this whole zombie apocalypse bullshit that if he were at least any sort of weak-minded pussy he'd throw himself off of that very ladder and break his sorry neck. Mostly because of his immense sense of self-pride and the sheer size of his ego, he chose to plant his feet firmly on the ground and instead reflected on the reasons of why he desperately needed to get laid. He seriously needed something to take the edge off before he would cut his manhood off and start calling himself "Darleena". He was so done with this world's bullshit it wasn't even funny.